Skyrim: The Lost Scroll
by Seikan no Sozo-ryoku
Summary: An Old Man tells a group of children the story of the Dragonborn's quest to retrieve a Lost Scroll of great power.
1. Stories

_Skyrim: the Lost Scroll_

"And that children is how the Dragonborn defeated Alduin and saved the land of Skyrim," spoke the Old Man. The Old Man was dressed in simple emerald robes and wore a few rings on his fingers. The Old Man name was affectionate since he didn't actually look all that old, just mind the streaks of silver in his hair.

He sat on a fine old chair in front of a group of children, all of whom wore a smile at the delight of hearing the wondrous tales of the Old Man. A few feet away the center markets of Whiterun (for that is the hold we are currently in) were busy and booming with customers. The Jarl's palace, Dragonsreach, rose magnificently over the city.

One of the children slowly raised his hand to ask a question. The Old Man smiled.

"What is your question, lad?" he asked. The boy hesitated at asking, all of the children's' eyes darted towards the boy. After a moment's notice the boy asked:

"Is the story you told us real? Or is it all made-up?"

The Old Man cracked a smile and chuckled loudly, the boy's face reddened.

"Is it real? Why it's as real as Red Eagle's sword!" the Old Man boasted.

"Wow!"

"I thought that was just a myth!"

"No my mother told me about the sword once; she said it was as real as you and me!"

The children all talked over each other, determined to share what they knew with each other. The Old Man kept smiling and waited patiently for them all to finish. Some minutes later and the talking ceased.

"Yes the story of the Dragonborn is real. When you grow older and learn about Skyrim's history in school you'll hear all sorts of stories about the Dragonborn's adventures. In fact we even have a Day of the Dragonborn where all of Tamriel celebrates the Dragonborn's victory over Alduin!"

The children all sat there astonished. They had heard the Dragonborn's name used in the same breath that _Talos_' name was used in but never before had they known his significance.

"Can you tell us another story about the Dragonborn?" asked a child. The Old Man frowned slightly.

"Oh I'm not sure whether I'm up for another story…" he said. The children all started to jump with energy.

"Please, please!"

"Tell us another story!"

"Just one more!"

The Old Man laughed and raised his hands in a surrendering fashion. The children quickly piped down.

"Alright I shall tell _one_ more story," said the Old Man. The children smiled and looked at the Old Man with anticipation. The Old Man scratched his cheek as he wondered over which story to tell.

"Hmm the Golden Claw? No it's too well known. The Battle of Solitude? Best not put the War in their minds…Wait I know!" The Old Man raised his finger.

"This is not a very well-known story but it is a good one nonetheless. This story happened 6 years after the defeat of Alduin. This story is known as the _Tale of the Lost Scroll_…"


	2. Markarth

_Markarth_

The Dragonborn dashed through the rocky and bumpy trails that led to Markarth, his trusty steed showed no signs of getting exhausted but the legendary warrior himself looked bored. He had just cleared out a local Forsworn camp in the area as a favor to the Jarl of Markarth. Instead of feeling a rush of adrenaline, the Dragonborn was left with the bitter taste of repetitiveness.

He had already done missions like these hundreds of times in the past and yearned for a good quest. One like in the old days… when the threat of a Second Dragon War still loomed ominously.

He finally arrived at the copper lined city of Markarth, where the caves and mountains ran deep with silver. He stopped his horse and jumped off. The Dragonborn wore simple iron armor and a helmet as to not attract too much attention to him.

After leaving his horse in the stables, he entered the city entrance; the guards gave the usual compliments towards his armor. The Dragonborn was once again brushed with the feeling of déjà vu. Markarth looked the same as it had when he had first visited it. The vendor carts were in the same place, the stream that flowed through the city still looked clean and the same citizens walked around the city. The Dragonborn felt a strange sort of feeling in his throat at realizing that the city would always be the same, even on the day when he left Nirn…

"When he left Nirn? How does one leave Nirn?" asked a girl in the front. The Old Man cleared his throat.

"Death. That is how," he answered grimly.

"Oh," said the girl in a low voice. Her face paled and she looked like she would have preferred to not have learned the answer.

"Yes," nodded the Old Man slowly, "Anyways returning to the story:"

The townspeople of Markarth began to recognize the Dragonborn and began to shower him with hugs, handshakes, shouts of gratitude and the like. Brave as he might be, the Dragonborn never quite accustomed to the fame of being Skyrim's hero.

Finally after the last kiss had been planted on his cheek and the last handshake had been given, the people cleared off. The Dragonborn then finally entered the Jarl's palace.

"Now how many of you have been to Dragonsreach?" asked the Old Man. Nearly all of the children raised their hands.

"Well the Jarl's palace in Markarth is very similar, mind you there's much more gold of course."

"Wow, really?"

"The Jarl must be rich!"

"Ahem," the Old Man coughed and the children immediately stopped talking.

The Jarl smiled at the sight of the Dovahkin.

"Dragonborn! I see you have arrived," he smiled and got out of his throne. He bowed to the Dragonborn and the rest of the people in the room, maids, guards, children, bowed as well. The Dragonborn bowed to the Jarl as well.

"Jarl Igmund," said the Dragonborn.

"Rise Dragonborn, you need not bow for me," said the Jarl. The Dragonborn reluctantly stopped bowing. He saw that every eye on the room was fixed on him. _They look like they're expecting some mighty speech for me…_ thought the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn cleared his throat and said "I have cleared out the Forsworn bandit camp for you Jarl Igmund."

Jarl Igmund clapped his hands together and sat back on his throne, "Excellent! Now only a few _dozen_ more of those camps are left. If we get rid of those then the Forsworn threat here will be completely eliminated!"

The Dragonborn's mind blurred around these words. He knew perfectly well that by '_If we get rid of those'_ that the Jarl was referring to him and was counting on him to clear out the remaining Forsworn bandits. And something else bothered him too…it was the idea of him having to go out and clear even _more_ of those Forsworn camps. But Markarth was counting on him to defend their great town. So with a great feeling of regret the Dragonborn said:

"I shall be…_happy_… to clear out the remaining Forsworn camps for you, Jarl Igmund." He sighed. The Jarl nodded.

"The whole of Markarth blesses you Dragonborn. Now as for your reward for clearing out this Forsworn camp…" the Jarl took out the usual heavy bags of gold. The Dragonborn could hear the gold clinking inside of the cloth. More gold. He had more gold than he knew what to do with. The last thing he needed was more of it.

"Keep it, Jarl Igmund." Said the Dragonborn in a low voice. The people looked at the Dragonborn as if they couldn't believe his refusal. The Jarl scratched his ear to make sure he had not heard wrong.

"_Keep it_? Does the gold not please you?" asked the Jarl in a concerned voice.

"No Jarl it is just that I have no-"

"I could _double _the gold, would that please you?"

"No Jarl, honestly I do not want any more-"

"Perhaps I could ask the blacksmith to make you a weapon in your name and grace! To be supplied to _every_ Markarth guard! That, plus the _gold_ of course. How does that sound-"

"I SAID NO!" the Dragonborn shouted and the power of the Thu'Um rattled the walls and smashed the windows. The people shouted and ducked, the Jarl covered his face. The Dragonborn bent over and breathed hard, shocked at what he had just done. When he looked back up he saw everyone looking at him, fearfully.

"I am… sorry." The Dragonborn gave a rather rushed bow and quickly left the palace.


	3. Cold Was the Night

_Skyrim: The Lost Scroll_

_Cold Was the Night_

The news of the Dragonborn's outburst had traveled quickly throughout the towns and villages. The Dragonborn didn't dare return to Markarth for fear of shame. Whatever village or hold he went to now he received cautious looks from people and the Jarls looked less happy to see him.

It was as if he were a criminal.

Whenever the Dragonborn went out now he wore a black cloak to hide his face. This seemed to work but the Dragonborn had a suspicion that people knew it was him but they didn't want to acknowledge him.

"What was wrong with the Dragonborn? Why is he so… sad?" asked a girl. The Old Man thought for a moment about how to respond.

"The Dragonborn though brave and legendary he is, is like you or me. We are all used to the same lifestyle. You children have fun every day and we adults go to work every day to earn gold. The same goes for the Dragonborn, he was used to adventuring every single day, to exploring the land and finding hidden wonders and learning new things. Now imagine that your daily routine is taken from you. Imagine that children are not allowed to play anymore and that grown-ups aren't paid anymore. The Dragonborn had learned absolutely _everything_ there was to know about Skyrim. There was no more thrill in exploring. It is as if you were playing a game of hide and seek but you already know where everyone is hiding. There is no point in playing."

So the Dragonborn decided to drown his sorrows in drink. He was sitting on a stool in a tavern named _the Winking Skeever_ on his second tankard of ale. He wore a black cloak to hide his face. The tavern was busy with customers and hardly anyone noticed him.

Drink. Set the tankard down, Think about what to do tomorrow.

Drink again.

Even the ale wasn't comforting him. He still felt just as terrible and guilty. He lifted the tankard to take another drink. There was no liquid left in the tankard. The bartender walked up to him.

"Doing alright there?" he asked. The Dragonborn stared at the tankard.

"Another tankard of ale would be good," said the Dragonborn in hardly more than a whisper. The bartender frowned and leaned in closely to him.

"I know who you are Dragonborn," he whispered, "And you can't keep drinking. Have some pride for yourself-"

"Another tankard." He said unwaveringly. The bartender stood there like a statue but he eventually got him another tankard. He walked away without looking at him. He looked at the tankard.

"A drunk." He said to himself, "Is that what I am to become?"

He grabbed the tankard and brought it to his lips then he stopped dead. He had the piercing sensation of being watched. If he was being watched then he better not attract attention. He drank from the tankard and set it down. A quick glance would let him see if he was being watched. He half turned in his seat and looked around. The tavern was full of people drinking and shouting, no one paid attention to each other. No one seemed to be watching him…

Then he saw it. There was an empty table in the corner of the room with a single man sitting on it. He had a tankard set in front of him but it looked untouched. The man wore a hood but he could make out his eyes looking directly at him. The man was watching him.

The Dragonborn turned around, theories swirling in his mind. Who was the man and why was he watching him? Did he simply recognize the Dragonborn? Was he following him? Or… was he an _assassin_?

He kept on pretending to be normal, that he hadn't noticed the man but he could still feel his gaze on him. He finished the tankard and left 5 gold pieces on the counter. If he was an assassin or trailing him then the man would follow him. The Dragonborn slipped quietly outside. The night was cold in Solitude, torches burned every few feet. He could see a few guards ahead of him patrolling. He lowered his hood. Better he not be recognized.

He crouched and sneaked around, ears listening for the slightest sound of a footstep. He heard nothing. Eventually he came to the city entrance and he left.

His horse was safely put in the stables. He got on it and rode off. He rode down the hill and passed farms and homes. Occasionally he turned around to check if anyone was following. If they were following him then they were pretty well hidden.

"Maybe it was just nothing…" he muttered. He doubted it. Nothing was ever nothing in Skyrim. He kept riding the trail and pretty soon Solitude was a castle in the distance and forests and hard terrain followed in front of him.

His horse neighed. The hairs on the Dragonborn's neck stood up. He slowly turned to look behind him.

The hooded man was standing 30 feet away.

He got off of his horse and lowered his hood. The man stood there without moving.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?" the Dragonborn asked. The man said nothing.

"You're an assassin...and you'll get more than you bargained for if you attack me."

"We shall see," said the man. That was the cue the Dragonborn was looking for. He shot out his hands and curved his fingers like the talons of an eagle. Crackling fire exploded on the palms of his hands. His horse neighed and backed away. The fire light up the night and the Dragonborn saw the man grin under his hood.

The Dragonborn shot a twin set of fireballs from his hands directly at the hooded man. They burned with energy and raced straight forward. The hooded man then suddenly trust his arms forward and summoned a blue like shield around him. A ward. The fireballs directly hit the man but they did not even break the ward. The man was unaffected.

"What…" the Dragonborn had never seen this type of ward before. Wards were meant to block spells and the user to take only minor damage from spells. The man was completely unaffected and he was still casting the ward.

"Well then," the Dragonborn chuckled but he did not know why. Perhaps is what that he could feel a challenge coming.

He put out the fire and instead drew in breath, his chest ballooning.

"_Fus Ro Dah!" _he summoned the power of the Thu'Um and shouted the Unrelenting Force at the man. Rocks in its path shattered, grass blew up and rained down. The shout's force hit the ward but it did not break.

"That's not possible." Said the Dragonborn. The man finally put the ward out and walked to him.

"So you are _him_. Come with me, we have _a lot_ of things to discuss."


	4. The Lost Scroll

_Skyrim: The Lost Scroll_

_Chapter IV: The Lost Scroll_

"Who are you?" asked the Dragonborn. The man lowered his hood. He looked to be around the same age as the Dovahkin and his eyes had the same glint of blood, he was a man who had seen violence.

"I've been sent to collect you and bring you to the person I work for." Said the man. The Dragonborn frowned, he didn't like the way the man used the word _collect_.

"You were watching me at the Winking Skeever, you've probably been following me for a while now haven't you?" he asked solemnly. The man nodded.

"I had to make sure you were he, and your use of the Thu'Um has proven that."

"You've been watching me for days. Do you see why I may have trouble confiding in you?"

"Dragonborn you must understand I had to exercise caution. Wouldn't you want to take care in a similar situation?"

"I cannot say, tell me what does your superior want me for?"

The man looked around to make sure they weren't being watched.

"A quest." He said seriously. The Dragonborn sighed.

"Damn, I suppose he wants me to go take care of some bandits that are troubling him doesn't he?" he said sarcasticly. The man chuckled.

"Oh no this is a… _much more_ serious matter. Walk with me Dragonborn for he is not far from here."

The Dragonborn rode on his horse alongside the man, who also had a horse. The Dragonborn had no idea where the horse had come from since he had not seen one when he had first met the man. On closer inspection the horse did not appear to be a regular horse. Its skin was black like ebony and he had blazing red eyes like blood.

"I have not seen that breed of horse before," said the Dragonborn. The man looked down at his horse casually.

"Oh well this isn't a horse from around here," he said shortly. The horse neighed but it sounded more like a battle cry.

"What is your name?" the Dragonborn asked the man. The man did not respond for a while, it as if he was wondering whether to trust him with his name.

"Deigmus," he said, "My name is Deigmus."

"Tell me Deigmus, how did you learn that ward? I have never seen anything like it before in Skyrim."

"Ha if you think that's something incredible then you should see the other things my boss has,"

"Speaking of your boss, who is he?"

They rode again for a short while in silence, Deigmus then broke it.

"He is a scholar and a historian. He searches for relics and items of the past,"

"Sounds like a dangerous hobby,"

Deigmus turned and looked straight into the Dragonborn's eyes.

"You have absolutely no idea."

A while later they arrived at a wooden cabin out in the middle of a heavily wooded area. They had passed a sign earlier on that notified them that the Village of _Dragon Bridge_ was a few meters away.

"We're here." Deigmus slipped off his horse. The Dragonborn did so as well.

"There's a stable over there to put your horse in," said Deigmus. The Dragonborn noticed there was only enough room for one horse in the stable.

"How will your horse fit in-"

Deigmus' horse was gone. Vanished.

"Come, he is waiting for you inside."

The Dragonborn looked at the small wooden cabin. A scholar, living _here_? He doubted it and he started to get suspicions that perhaps Deigmus (if that was his real name) was an assassin after all and this was the place where he would attempt to kill him.

Deigmus raised his hand to knock on the door.

"Are you ready?" he asked seriously at the Dragonborn.

"I hope I am,"

Deigmus knocked on the door three times. Silence. Then the door opened by itself and Deigmus walked inside.

The Dragonborn followed.

_By the nine_ he thought. The cabin was somehow much larger on the inside.

"It's bigger on the ins-"he started but he was interrupted by a new voice.

"Inside. Yes it is."

He was a tall man, with greying hair and a magnificent intelligent look in his eye. But that's not what caught the Dragonborn's attention. Half of the man's face was carved out of _wood_. The man must have been used to people being in awe at his face because he showed no signs of anger at the Dragonborn's awed face.

"It's the nose isn't it?" he said jokingly, "That's what scares people."

Deigmus chuckled, the Dragonborn was not sure of what to say. The man walked forward and put his right arm out to shake the Dragonborn's hand. The Dragonborn shook his hand but he noticed something odd about it, then he saw that the arm was also made out of wood.

"Dragonborn, it is an honor to meet you," said the man. The Dragonborn only half heard what the man said since he was still processing the man's wooden body.

"I assume that you have many questions, Dovahkin. Go ahead, ask."

The Dragonborn thought for a moment.

"Who exactly _are _you?" he asked.

"My name is Rejis. I am a historian and I find ancient relics and artifacts that are otherwise too dangerous to be found by others."

The Dragonborn then noticed that the cabin was _packed_ with strange items. The bookshelves were overflowing with books, there were glass cases with claws and skulls in them, there were strange scrolls and numerous pieces of parchment with strange symbols on desks everywhere, and so much more. There was a bed in the corner of the cabin but it was coated with dust.

"How many know of the work you do?"

Rejis scratched his chin, "I would estimate that only 20 people are aware of my work and many of those are the Tamriel rulership and trusted scholars,"

"And now you are trusting me with knowing what you do?"

"Indeed, I have wanted to meet you for a while Dragonborn. But now I have an assignment that requires a man with a particular set of skills, like yours."

"Finally, why exactly have you brought me here? What do you need?"

Rejis walked to a chest and pressed his palm against it. It opened and he dug around it, he then pulled out a large scroll.

"You are aware of the Elder Scrolls and what they are for?" asked Rejis. The Dragonborn nodded.

"Yes. They have prophecies written in them that come true…they foretold the return of Alduin. I myself have had to retrieve one."

"Yes you are correct. Now the exact number of Elder Scrolls cannot be counted. It is impossible."

"Why is that?"

"Whenever the most educated people in the land have tried, the Scrolls change location and number. We do not know why. But very few know this, there is a dark scroll among the Elder Scrolls. While the regular Scrolls simply foretell the future, past and present, this dark Scroll gives the reader power beyond imagining. The user would be nearly _omnipotent_."

"How do you know this 'dark scroll' even exists?"

"Its existence is mentioned in one of the Elder Scrolls. Here let me read it to you:"

The Dragonborn then realized in horror that Rejis was holding one of the Elder Scrolls.

Rejis cleared his throat and read,

_With a power like the Daedric, the dark Scroll burns. After Alduin, bane of Skyrim, falls come the Knights in White with a power to rule. The voice of the Dragon will be heard and restore order to Skyrim._

The Dragonborn was quiet. So what Rejis was saying was fact. Prophecies in the Elder Scrolls always came true.

"Tell me everything you know." he said slowly. Rejis folded the scroll.

"Although the Elder Scroll refers to it as a 'dark Scroll', those who know of its existence refer to it as _the_ _Lost Scroll _because it has been lost for a long time. The last time its use was recorded was several hundred years ago."

"Why has it been lost for so long?"

"The Scroll changes location every 2 weeks. I think you can assume why it's so difficult to find now."

"But you know where it is now?"

"I have a good idea, now as I was saying, whoever wields the Scroll would have power equivalent to that of a divine. Nothing would be impossible to them. This is speculation of course, I've been able to track the scroll down to an ancient temple far from here, near Riften."

"I have been all throughout Skyrim. If there was such a temple near Riften I would have found it,"

"Oh it is quite well hidden."

"I assume that someone else wants the Scroll,"

Rejis' expression darkened.

"Yes. They are the Knights in White the prophecy spoke of."

"Who are they?"

"They are… an ancient group of collectors who seek to find the Scroll and use its dark power to rule,"

"You've met them before?"

"They are the reason for why I look like this," he said darkly. The Dragonborn saw pain in the man's eyes.

"So you want me to retrieve the Scroll and to not let the Knights get to it?"

"Yes, that is it."

"And what will you do with the Scroll if I get it for you?"

"The Scroll will be handed over to the Empire for safekeeping. If I were to have it in my possession… word would get out somehow."

"So you want me to find the Scroll, and bring it to you?"

"Yes, that sounds correct."

"What do you have to offer if I do it?"

Rejis thought for a moment, "I have no gold to offer but I have something I believe you'll value a whole lot more."

"And what is that?"

"New knowledge, I offer you a part of my collection. And if you do the quest, I assure you that you will experience something you have not felt in a long time."

"Which is?"

"A challenge."

The Dragonborn did not even have to think about the matter, those last words had summed it up perfectly for him.

"I'll do it."


End file.
